


Eyes of the Devil

by ObliObla



Series: Lucifer Songfics [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 12:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16040111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: Cain wakes. The light is so bright he cannot see.





	Eyes of the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> It irks me when I get burned  
> And I realize I don't get hurt  
> And always, it seems I've lost my way  
> When I feel you it's not enough  
> And I need you, you shun my touch  
> I notice the season's ripe for change  
> I'm weak
> 
> So with every new lesson learned  
> I could keep you before it turns  
> And the knowledge that things won't be the same  
> Now I realize that you have won  
> And there's nothing to be said or done  
> And I notice the wind won't blow my way
> 
> So run with the eyes of a devil  
> And keep him in your dreams  
> If you succumb to the lies of the rebel  
> You'll cleanse yourself of me
> 
> It kills me to watch this fade  
> And I realize it's all charade  
> And every mistake I make’s the same  
> I beseech you to let me drown  
> Will it please you to let me down?  
> And no one can save me from the pain
> 
> Jesus, save me  
> Jesus, save me from me
> 
> -Seether-

Cain wakes. The light is so bright he cannot see.

_Am I in Heaven?_

The light resolves itself; the windows of the gallery are shattered—by bullets in some places, by celestial glory in others—but their realness, their solidity is so sublime he wants nothing more than to cheer. To yell with unholy glee; _I’m alive. Alive! Even the Devil couldn’t kill me!_

He gropes for the knife in his chest; blood coats his shirt, but there is no wound. The knife—he realizes as he pulls himself up to sit—is lying next to him, encrusted red. He slips it into his pocket, standing. He checks his arm; the Mark is as clear on his flesh as the day he was branded. Its subtle ache is more comforting than he’d realized.

“Boss?”

He turns on his heel; Jackson is standing in the doorway, hesitant.

_Jackson always was a coward._

“Where are the other men?”

Jackson edges up to him; considering the amount of blood down his front, Cain can’t blame him for his apprehension, “Dead; Morningstar killed them.” He points around some scaffolding; Daniels is lying in a crumpled heap.

Cain grins, “Really? How… disobedient of him.”

“Huh?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head, “Where is Morningstar, and… Chloe?”

Jackson pales, “I don’t know, I—”

“Ran, like a little girl?” Jackson cringes; it’s so good to be back, Cain has _missed_ this.

“He… he had _wings_ …” he shivers, eyes a little too wide. Damn, broken by divinity; what a shame.

His gun is empty, but he hardly needs bullets when he has a Hell-forged blade; Jackson barely has time to screech out a terrified, “No, stop…” before he’s on the ground with the rest of the failures.

_No, stop_ ; how very… unoriginal.

Cain makes his way back home slowly, leisurely; he has all the time in the world, after all. He surveys all the trappings of _normality_ he’s acquired. Ugh. Coming here was a mistake; a few decades of slightly-worse-than-usual-ennui and suddenly he’s all _I want to die._

Well, no more; he knows now that he’s nothing but a monster. He hushes the voices— _you cared about her; you loved her_ —with some top shelf whisky he was saving for… something; he can’t even remember now.

He won’t.

Several hours later, he drops his second—or third—empty bottle; it smashes against the floor. He smiles; all he has to do now is kill Lucifer, and everything will be fine. He can go back to how it was before; he’s survived thousands of years of hopelessness, what are a few millennia more?

Lux; he needs to go to Lux. _Let there be light;_ he laughs as he breathes the Los Angeles night.

Lux is empty; maybe he’s left already? Abandoned by those he’s… twisted into affection; as if he deserves love. As if _he_ deserves…

He calls the elevator down; he may as well check the penthouse before he starts his new, _better_ life. The shadows seem to part for him as he enters the living room. He heads for the bar; it can’t hurt to help himself to some of Lucifer’s absurdly expensive liquor before he sends him back down where he belongs. Where _he_ belongs.

He’s stopped short by the sight that awaits him; a picture of Charlotte Richards sits, surrounded by lilies, on the bar. A single gray feather lies before it, wrapped in a silver bracelet with a strange insignia on it. A… waffle?

Cain is distracted from this display by a sleepy feminine murmur. Of course: the Devil may pretend at caring, but pretense is all it is. The death of a supposed _friend_ used to lure yet another young, innocent creature. A tempter _,_ a _liar_ is all he will ever be; from Cain’s own mother to whatever unfortunate soul is in his bed tonight, he’ll never change.

He turns away from the bar; witness or no, the Devil will die tonight.

But he is halted, again; the couches, bathed in such darkness that Cain could not see them, are occupied. And not with drugged-out party goers, corrupted into sin, but familiar faces. Lopez is spread out on a loveseat, clutching the cross around her neck; Espinoza, face pained but calm, has his arm wrapped carefully around his daughter. The demon, wounds dressed, is tranquil in repose, clinging to the hand of a blonde woman Cain doesn’t recognize.

A second tired sigh draws Cain further into the apartment; he knows what awaits him, but the anguish that arises when he sees Lucifer curled protectively around Chloe is staggering. She sleeps restfully, peacefully on a gently shining wing while her pale hand rests lovingly against a scarred cheek; the acceptance on her face cuts deeper than demon steel.

The moment stretches; eons pass between her soft breaths. She settles more firmly against him and infinity fractures; Lucifer sits up, letting her slide carefully to his side. He meets Cain’s eye, “You’re late.” He smiles, beatifically; an angel gazing down at a hapless mortal.

He hides his confusion in anger, “You’re right; it’s too late now, for _you_.” He lunges, presses the knife against Lucifer’s heart and… it dissolves into smoke in his hand.

Lucifer chuckles, “Oh you poor man; you don’t understand, do you?

“You don’t even know where you are.”

The apartment fades into nothingness; Cain is standing in his fields, harvesting grain. Lucifer smirks at him from under a tree, reaches up to pluck a plump fig, and bites into it with relish. Cain stares from the sickle in his hand to the smug angel, “I… I’m dead? I’m in Hell?”

“Ooh,” Lucifer mocks, dropping the fruit at his feet, “we have a winner!”

Abel appears, face contorted in derision, “Your fields are nothing but feed for my herd; why would the Almighty Father want grain when He could have a lamb?” The sickle is heavy in Cain’s hand; Abel turns and…

Cain is looking into his own face, incensed and spitting, “You didn’t deserve His love; you didn’t deserve _her_ love. You don’t deserve…” He slices into the flesh, his flesh; the pain is as fresh as the new green shoots he crushes underfoot.

Lucifer stands before him now, in all his infernal glory. “You think you know eternity,” he leans down, hissing into Cain’s ear, “I’ll enjoy watching you learn how very wrong you are.” His laughter echoes through Cain’s very being as he falls, through shadow and silence and void. The last thing he can see is Lucifer’s eyes, burning in the endless darkness.

Cain wakes. The light is so bright he cannot see.

_Am I in Heaven?_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> I plan on doing more songfics; if you'd like to see me write something based on a particular song, let me know in the comments. If I end up writing it, I'll gift it to you!


End file.
